


The Great Outdoors

by fractalsinthesky



Series: flint and tinder [3]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rating for sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 23:46:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16670686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalsinthesky/pseuds/fractalsinthesky
Summary: what if they did find some woods porn





	The Great Outdoors

They froze, instincts on high alert at the flash of red through the trees. They signaled Hurk and Sharky to stop, raising their rifle to bear. No taking chances up north—Jacob’s Chosen were vicious, and if they got the opportunity to call in more Judges, things could get bad.

“Y’see somethin’?” hissed Hurk in their ear, crowding close to shelter behind the same tree.

“I dunno—maybe,” they answered, peeking around it. The redness was still, an indistinct spot a few yards off, near a moss-covered stump. It wasn’t moving, so they relaxed, coming closer for better look. Not a patch of blood from an animal kill—it was definitely artificial. Whatever it was, it wasn’t shining like metal and it didn’t have a light going, so it probably wasn’t an explosive. “What is that? Campware?”

“What?” Sharky jogged over, trying to track their gaze and squinting. “I’m not seeing anything.”

“By the stump, c’mon.” They quickened their pace, unable to quell the rising wave of childish curiosity that made their feet feel lighter. Something that wasn’t a house full of bloated bodies or a business abandoned and infested with murderous Peggies? Awesome. Their last unexpected find had uncovered a cache of particularly good whiskey, aged beyond anything Rook would have been able to afford prior to this whole cult thing.

They got closer, and the redness resolved into an inky rendering of someone’s foot on a shag carpet. “Some kind of old magazine?”

They brushed away the dead leaves and pine needles, uncovering the long legs and severely canted hips of a pouting woman, sprawled luxuriously in front of a fire in a sequined bikini that was several sizes too small.

“Oh,” they said, blinking. “Um. Wow.” The model had been oiled for the shot or something, because her skin was glistening. They couldn’t tear their eyes away from the full swell of her breasts, the promise of the shadow between them, and Rook felt their cheeks flushing. Juvenile—predictable. Stupid. Even in high school, when they were young and horny and lonely as hell, they hadn’t gotten off to porno mags. They’d always thought of them as sad, inadequate relics from before the Internet era, but the hot curl in their gut didn’t seem to have the same hang-ups.

“Oh-ho shit, son!” crowed Hurk gleefully from behind their shoulder. “Man, I tell ya, I’ve been wonderin’ when we’d find this kinda stuff out here. About freakin’ time.”

“Fuck, dude, you think the Peggies come out here to use this?” Sharky laughed, elbowing Rook in the ribs. “Scared Big Daddy Joe’ll catch them jackin’ off, so they skip out on patrols and come out here. Y’think they get an official line goin’, or just like, hide behind a tree and pretend not to hear anything ’til it’s their turn? Or d’you think they’re, uh, secure enough in their own sexualities to get an old-fashioned circle jerk together?”

Rook laughed, ears burning, dropping their gear and flipping through a few pages with forced casualness. “Talk about old-fashioned—check out this hair. If any of these chicks have shirts, I bet they’ll have some incredible shoulder pads.” They stopped, mouth falling open at a spread of a curly haired woman pinned to a stone wall backdrop, her wrists clasped in novelty cuffs, wearing a blinding shade of magenta lipstick and nothing else. A shirtless man with his back to the camera was trailing a hand up the inside of her strong thighs, fingers frozen just inches from the dark thatching of her pubic hair. Rook couldn’t help but imagine exploring that slick heat with their own fingers, coaxing the model’s breath to come in needy gasps, her full lips rounding gratefully. 

It’d been too long since they’d been bound in a fun way, too, and the idea of being bare and waiting as their partner looked them over, every nerve quavering in anticipation of their unhurried touch, made them more than a little wet.

“So, uh, what d’you guys want to do with this, uh…stuff?” they asked, clearing their throat and turning a few more pages, although they were pretty sure the others had picked up on the feigned nature of their nonchalance. Something tense but exciting in the air, a barely perceptible vibration in the space between them. They thought about all Sharky’s stories, the confident grin and pink curl of his tongue as he talked enthusiastically about burying his face between the thighs of exes and friendly strangers alike. The lazy heat in their gut spread into their chest, and they snuck a look at him from the corner of their eye.

“Well, listen here ‘migos, the only fair thing to do would be to rock, paper, scissors for it,” said Hurk, gently putting his hands over Rook’s and guiding them to close the magazine. He grinned and put a hand out in the middle of their huddle. “Now, if you’d all just put your hands out? Good, okay, now—finders keepers, ya’ll! Bring it back when I’m done!”

He snatched the magazine from Rook’s slack grip and crashed off through the underbrush, only pausing to holler ‘no peekin’!’ over his shoulder and then he was gone.

“Dick move, Hurky!” Sharky yelled after him with a scowl, kicking at the leaf litter in his wake before turning back to Rook. “Fuck, man. I don’t want to think about my cousin pullin’ his hog to the same stuff I’m pounding it to. Y’know? It’s kinda messed up.”

“I mean, you don’t have to use the magazine,” they pointed out, spreading their hands helplessly. “No one’s gonna make you spank it to an old porno rag someone left in the woods.”

He shrugged, flushing. “I know, but…to be honest with you, Dep, I’m pretty fuckin’ horny.”

They crossed and uncrossed their arms, mouth twisting to the side. “Um. Me too, actually. God. Feels like forever since I got laid.”

He cocked his head, expression guarded. “Yeah? You, uh…want to help each other out here? Collaborate a little, maybe?”

They shrugged, toying with the zipper on their jacket self-consciously. “I mean, I think it’d be fun. I mean—nice. Good. I just—yeah, I wanna fuck you, if that’s okay. I like you a lot, and you’re cute and funny and if you were down, I think we could—“

He was gaping at them like they’d just told him they’d come from the moon. “Are-are you fucking with me? You’re messin’ with me, aren’t you? You mean you really want to do it?”

“Hell yes,” they laughed, taking a step closer and taking his hand, lacing their fingers together. His free hand touched at their waist tentatively, and they shivered. 

“Oh, okay. Cool,” he said, wide grin spreading, disbelief giving way to confidence. He stepped in, pulling them closer by the small of their back and pressing his lips to theirs in a warm, sweet kiss. They smiled into it, heart beating faster, and shucked their jacket, pressing their crotch to his, feeling the warmth and pressure of his erection through their jeans. He snorted, leaning back and shaking his head. “Wait up, dude, I’m super out of practice, and uh, I don’t want this to be anything less than fuckin’ mindblowing for you.”

“You’re so sweet,” they said, cupping the side of his face in their hand, biting their lip at the wistful yearning on his face as he leaned into it. “God, you’re sweet. I want you inside me. Fuck, I want to feel you.”

He shuddered, wrapping them tightly in his arms, hands diving down over their back pockets and squeezing with relish as he kissed them again, catching their lips between his teeth. They fumbled hungrily in the scant space between their bodies, untucking his shirt and unbuckling his belt. He slid a hand under their shirt, fingers worming beneath the hem of their sportsbra while the other went to work at their crotch, massaging them expertly through the thick denim. 

“Dep—Jesus, you’re so good,” he panted, breath puffing against their neck as he pressed sloppy kisses at the corner of their jaw, wandering down their throat. “God, I bet you’re so fucking hot inside. I can feel it through your pants. You gettin’ wet for me, hon? You don’t know how long I’ve been thinkin’ about tasting you, Dep. Fuck, I wanna make you holler—I wanna tongue-fuck you so good you forget there was a time you weren’t cumming over and over again, ’til you’re yellin’ loud enough for John Fuckin’ Seed to hear.”

“No John,” they murmured, pulling him after them towards the stump. “Just you, Shark. I want you—I want to memorize every inch of you, I wanna see you so happy you fuckin’ glow. I’m gonna ride you sweaty and breathless—I’m gonna suck your dick so goddamn exquisitely you’ll feel like you’re weightless, your pulse hot and hard against my throat.”

His pupils were huge and he followed them in a daze, swallowing. “Dep, I—you know I’m into you, right? Like, I don’t wanna ruin this, but…fuck it, you gotta know. An’ if you’re just, y’know, wanting something right here, right now, no strings or nothin’, that’s totally fine, but…I want more. If that’s-if that’s okay with you, of course.”

They stopped struggling with their boot laces, falling back against the stump and staring up at him. “I, uh, I didn’t know. But …thank you? To be honest, I’ve been trying not to think about getting into anything with-with feelings. It’s just we have so much to deal with, what with the cult, and everything.”

He nodded, shoulders slumping unhappily. “It’s cool, man—I totally get that. You don’t gotta—”

“No, hey, listen,” they said, shaking their head and taking his hands, pulling him close again. “I said ‘trying’, Shark. Because people are dying all over and I didn’t want to risk making things awkward with one of the only people who has my back. But if you wanna give it a go, I’m right there with you.”

“Awkward?” he echoed, snorting and stepping away to pull his sweatshirt off without elbowing them in the face. His shirt came up with it, and the gold chain he wore caught below his nose. He spluttered but pushed through it, tossing the clothes down over the stump and adjusting his necklace with a lopsided grin. “Listen, ‘migo, there ain’t enough awkward in the world to ruin what we got. Now get your ass outta those pants.”

They grinned back and kicked their boots off, unbuttoning and pulling their jeans down with a haste they hoped came off as eager rather than desperate. He eyed their strong legs with approval, fumbling with his zipper.

“Uh, you wanna sit up there on the stump? Go ahead and use my shit. Get comfy.” 

They obliged, but lay their jeans over the soft fabric of his shirt. Maybe not as comfortable, but they’d feel bad getting his stuff wet, and they were already soaking through their boxers. A little detail Sharky had noticed, judging by the smug grin and the way his eyes were glued to their crotch. He’d gotten his pants off, erection straining against his underwear, and they reached out, playfully hooking their feet behind his knees and pulling him in. He laughed and cupped their face, kissing their brow, nose, and cheeks before they caught him by the neck and guided him into a full, heavy kiss. Their other hand snaked over his hip, squeezing his ass before tugging pointedly at the hem of his underwear.

“Hang on, Dep.” He broke the kiss with a wide smile, shaking his head and prodding at their sternum with two fingers, urging them to lean back while his other hand gently opened their legs further.

“Fuck,” they breathed, delighted to comply, shuffling to the edge of the stump so he’d have a better angle. “Have I told you I love your fucking mouth today, Shark?”

He beamed, working their boxers down over their hips with deliberate movements. “Aw, that’s real sweet, Dep. Feel free to holler in a bit when you really mean it.”

They shivered at the warm puffs of his breath against the inside of their thighs, the slow drag of their underwear down to their knees and then falling softly away, hot need throbbing at their center. “I mean it, man. Nobody makes me laugh like you. I love your smile and your jokes and your lips—” 

He dove right in, mouth warm at their apex, tongue stroking wide and hot, exploring with relish while a steadying palm slid over their stomach. They shuddered at the ghostly sensation of his other hand, fingers trailing over the sensitive skin between their thighs, tracing lazy and tightening circles through their pubic hair and sinking between their labia. He found their clit in record time, humming his satisfaction at the first instinctive buck of their hips. He doubled down, tongue flickering with merciless perfection while his fingers slipped into their center, pushing steadily and curling against their walls with just enough pressure to ache.

They choked, pleasurable static building at the back of their skull, legs locking over Sharky’s shoulders. He paused quickly, professionally for breath, pulling cold air over their hot exposed flesh while a calloused thumb took over for a few rough swipes of their clit, before settling back in, nose pressing unabashedly against their vulva. They grabbed tufts of his sandy hair as the waves of their first orgasm shook them, gasping wordlessly at the pines overhead.

Distantly, they felt him grin, nuzzling downwards and tracing the rim of their opening with his tongue, lapping greedily at their slickness before surging in as far as he could go, pumping unhurriedly while thumb and forefinger played with their overstimulated clit.

“F-uck, Sharky,” they gulped through the sweet pain, dizzy at the sensation of his tongue shoving into them, suddenly wanting his dick pushing deeper, filling them completely. “God, you are so good.”

He disengaged with an obscene slurp, grinning up at them and coming up for a quick, sloppy kiss so they could taste themselves in his beard. “Told you so, Dep.”

“Guess you did,” they sighed, leaning back and bracing themselves as he went down again, rubbing their heels at the base of his spine until the dexterity of his tongue made their knees watery, second orgasm pooling hot in their gut. 

This time he didn’t change it up, bearing down and intensifying his ministrations while they whimpered, one arm wrapped around their thigh for balance while the other reached up, fingers interlocking with theirs, sweating palms clasped hard against each other. They could feel a third orgasm building laboriously, like a roller coaster cart dragging up the incline before a drop, and urged him on, whispered snatches of praise that were bitten off or deepened into groans as he brought them closer and closer, until finally they came hard, curling up off the stump and whining through gritted teeth.

“Okay, now that,” panted Sharky, getting to his feet and wiping his mouth on his forearm, “I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.”

“Jesus, Shark,” they gasped, sprawled out like a dead starfish, legs heavy and brow icy with sweat. “You’re a fucking artist.”

He grinned, a bashful flush reddening his cheeks, shucking his underwear and lining himself up. “Helps when I got such a good-lookin’ muse. Y’good for part deux?”

Part of them wanted to just lie there and catch their breath, savoring the utter calm that had loosened every muscle in their body. But another, more insistent part was aching to have him close, imagining how perfect it would feel to take him in to the root and ride him until his eyes rolled back.

They grinned and sat up, eyeing him lazily. “Get over here and fuck me, Boshaw.”

He laughed, ducking his head almost shyly, giving himself a few quick strokes to spread precum down his shaft before stepping in. “Whatever you say, Boss.”

He pressed against their entrance, leaning in for a warm, lingering kiss before canting his hips and pushing in. His breath caught and his brows knit in something approaching reverence, breath unsteady.

“Take your time,” they soothed, leaning back and pulling him after them, legs lifting and locking over his back as they caressed his shoulders. “You’re perfect.”

He licked his lips, opened his eyes, and the sheer adoration shining in them filled Rook with warmth. They kissed him, full and tender as he started to rock, thrusts slow and gaining momentum steadily. He nuzzled against their cheek, curling down to kiss their neck and gently bite their ear as he pumped harder.

“This okay?” he murmured as their legs tightened around him.

They nodded, cupping his cheek and leaning up for a quick kiss. “You feel amazing.”

He grinned, thrusting hard and fast enough to make them gasp. “You too—God, you’re so fuckin’ wet, dude. You’re incredible. Gotta be honest with you, though—I’m not, uh, gonna last much longer here.”

They ground their hips up against him and he shuddered, ducking his head. 

“You’re good, Shark. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He took a sharp breath and hauled them up, wrapping them tightly against him for a few harsh thrusts and burying his head against their chest, muffling a strangled moan as he came. They stroked the softer hair at the nape of his neck and closed their eyes, focusing on the thump of his heartbeat so close to theirs, the swell of his ribs as he took each heavy breath, and the slight twitches of his dick as he softened. He eased them back down on the stump, planting a quick kiss at the base of their throat before pulling out with a pained wince.

“You okay?” they asked, sitting up and running a hand back through their hair, shuffling to the edge so his load could drain unimpeded. The sweat that had made their proximity humid was quickly chilling in the cool mountain air, and they wished they’d kept better track of where they’d left their shirt. Their boxers were within easy reach, and they hooked them with a toe, balling them up and using the cloth to blot at their neck and underarms to get the worst of the sweat away.

“Man, I’m better than okay—haven’t been this good in a long time,” he said, fishing around in the leaf litter until he found his underwear. He shook it out briskly and hiked it back over his hips, then bent down again. He’d picked up their shirt. A quick shake to dislodge some errant pine needles and then he threw it over to them with a grin. “Just get real sensitive after. An’ you better believe if we were in a proper bed, I’d be giving you some high-quality spoonin’ right now. We’re talkin’ military-grade-but-for-luxury snuggling. That meant a lot to me, Dep.”

“Me too,” they said, grinning back and donning their shirt. “Do I get to call you ‘babe’ now?”

He laughed, the tips of his ears reddening. “Long as I get to call you ‘sweetie’. If that’s cool. I’ll workshop a bunch of other names, too, but uh…you get the picture.”

They snorted, but felt warm and fuzzy at the prospect of Sharky’s creative side applied to coming up with pet names. “Good with me, hon. You see my socks anywhere?”

“Sure, gimme a sec.” He pulled his jeans up and then went hunting for their boots.

They cleaned themselves cursorily, mentally vowing to find a prepper stash with a shower as soon as possible, and put their boxers and jeans on again. They picked up his shirt and hoodie, pulling them apart and turning them right-side out.

“Trade ya,” he said, coming up with a boot in each hand and a goofy smile on his face.

“Perfect.” They weren’t talking about the trade.

They both finished dressing and got their gear from the bushes where they’d left it. Once they’d made sure no equipment was missing, they looked at each other, realizing what they’d forgotten.

“Hurk?” Rook called on the walkie, only slightly concerned. There was a tinny echo from Sharky’s receiver, and another a few yards off in the brush. Their stomach dropped but they hardly had time to question if their teammate had been captured before he edged sheepishly out into the open, hands up.

“Hey ya’ll,” he said with a nervous grin. “We ‘bout ready to head out?”

“Cuz, what the fuck,” asked Sharky flatly. “Were you watchin’ us?”

“I wasn’t!” protested Hurk, waving his hands emphatically. “Scout’s honor, man. I just, y’know. Finished with the mag, right? An’ I was bringin’ it back like I promised, but—listen, I was just guardin’ the perimeter, ‘kay? Didn’t wanna get et by a bear while you two were porkin’. For the record, though, I was singin’ to myself some, so like, I wasn’t even listenin’ in or nothing.”

“Fuck, Hurk,” they groaned, torn between amusement and discomfort. “Let’s just go. We got a few hours ’til nightfall, and I’d like to bunk with the Whitetails.”

“Sure thing—that works for me, if it works for you guys,” nodded Hurk quickly, resettling his bazooka strap. “Yup, yup. Good to go. This third wheel is, ah, ready to roll.”

“Christ,” muttered Sharky, beet red and adjusting his cap with more force than was necessary while Rook rolled their eyes, but when they started down the trail again, bumping shoulders, their hands found each other and linked, natural as you please.


End file.
